


The Boy in the Marketplace

by Kaerith



Series: Witcher Prompt One-Shots [13]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25183504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaerith/pseuds/Kaerith
Summary: There's a boy in the marketplace. Geralt wouldn't care about that at all, except the boy smells like Quebrith. There is no reason why a human boy should smell like an alchemical ingredient like Quebrith. The boy is shivering in the autumn chill, dressed in colourful but threadbare garments and barefoot. He has a begging bowl and a penny whistle and is earning a modest bit of coin with his surprisingly complex music.(Geralt rescues child Jaskier from an abusive OC witcher. Please mind warnings and tags!)
Series: Witcher Prompt One-Shots [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791685
Comments: 7
Kudos: 225
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development, Witcher Kink Meme (Dreamwidth)





	The Boy in the Marketplace

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [Jaskier/Any Non-Wolf Witcher, rescue from an abusive relationship](https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=515501). Anon also asked for G/J content, but I didn't feel it was appropriate to my take on this prompt because Jaskier is still too young and traumatized.
> 
> **Please mind warnings and tags if child abuse and rape are a trigger for you.** The focus in this is on rescue, but the content is there.

There's a boy in the marketplace. Geralt wouldn't care about that at all, except the boy smells like Quebrith. There is no reason why a human boy should smell like an alchemical ingredient like Quebrith. The boy is shivering in the autumn chill, dressed in colourful but threadbare garments and barefoot. He has a begging bowl and a penny whistle and is earning a modest bit of coin with his surprisingly complex music.

Geralt moves closer and he can smell semen with the almost imperceptible sweetness of witcher sterility. He wonders if the boy was merely whored out, but the human's eyes are haunted and nervous and continuously sweep around the crowd though they skip over the common folk as if he is expecting an attack from a specific menace that will stand out. Though he is almost regretful, he puts himself into the boy's line of sight to see how he reacts. The boy looks curious and wary, but his gaze doesn't linger after he identifies his medallion.

The human is afraid of a specific witcher, one not of the Wolf School. Geralt spirals out and extends his senses to try to identify who is the threat the child fears. A slower heartbeat edges in on his hearing, and he looks through a doorway to a tavern to see an unfamiliar witcher, one with a bear sigil. The man is focused on his drinking, so Geralt ducks away and takes a potion to speed his own slow pulse to that of a human's and climbs onto a roof from where he can see the boy and the tavern.

He is on his way home and doesn't have any contracts. Geralt has the time to spare to unravel this mystery. The Bear witcher was not likely to have had only a single encounter with the boy, not with how strongly the human smelt of Quebrith.

After an hour or so the boy takes his earnings to the tavern. Geralt hops from the roof into an alley and enters the establishment to see the witcher count the money and slap the child.

"I told you two hundred."

"If I may have food, master, please, I will go back out and earn more," the boy whispers.

Geralt watches the witcher rip off a chunk of bread and is horrified when the Bear soaks it in a potion before offering it to the human. "Take your medicine."

The boy doesn't want the potion, is afraid of ingesting it, but he is hungry enough to take the offering. Geralt steps in to prevent him from putting the tidbit into his mouth. He takes the morsel in his gloved fingers and smells it.

"DeVries extract? What does that do to a human?'"

The witcher scowls and stands up. "Why do you care?"

"Professional curiosity," Geralt says. He introduces himself but doesn't extend a hand because Bears aren't friendly.

"Cadwaladr," the other witcher says, with a glare. "Give the bread back and you can see what it does. It won't kill him," he adds, with a smirk.

Geralt offers it and the boy takes it with a trembling hand and reluctantly puts it in his mouth. The effects kick in quickly, and the boy's dilated pupils flicker around fearfully and he begins to smell of terror.

"Back to the market, boy," Cadwaladr growls, and the boy takes his begging bowl and leaves. "It makes him hallucinate ghosts and monsters. I've had him travel with me enough while he's drugged that he can never be sure if all the monsters are only imaginary."

Geralt sits down across the table and holds up a coin for an ale. "Interesting. Have you tried other potions?"

"Had a lot of little pets over the years," the man brags. "Children are the easiest to train, of course, and they also get more money when they beg. This one's getting a bit old. Have had him for almost two years."

"Hmm," Geralt hides his distaste with a tankard. He is going to kill this witcher.

"Why is your heart so fast?" The Bear isn't tipsy enough to have overlooked that fact and looks suspicious.

"Needed to sneak up on a bruxa. This one was old and clever. Still vulnerable to silver, of course." It's a plausible lie, though bruxae rarely mix with human crowds.

Geralt learns about how the witcher applied other potions to his "pets" and their affects on humans, and hears more bragging about Cadwaladr's sadistic exploits as the witcher falls further into his cups. Geralt bids his farewell when the ale in his mouth begins to taste rancid from his disgust and well-hidden anger and leaves to get a glimpse of the boy from a distance to see him huddled unconscious on the cobbles with his begging bowl emptied and overturned. Geralt doesn't dare approach him and taint the boy with more of his smell, so he goes back to the rooftops and hopes that the Bear will take the boy somewhere private to beat him where Geralt can kill him without an audience.

Cadwaladr kicks and punches the boy awake and then unconscious again before hauling the limp human over his shoulder and leaving the town. Geralt runs him through with a sword as the man unfastens his trousers less then two hours later to rape the senseless human and picks the child up and carries him back to town. It's nearly the middle of the night, and not worth renting a room. The boy has some broken ribs, his neck has been throttled, and he is dirty and black and blue from ankles to wrists. Geralt wraps the ribs and gets some water down the boy's thoat, and bundles him onto Roach and sits behind him as Roach resumes their trek to Kaer Morhen.

* * *

Julian can tell that he is on a horse before he truly wakes up. Cadwaladr never had one, so he is cautiously hopeful that he has been rescued. There is a large, armored body behind him which is worrisome, but that man has wrapped Julian in a blanket.

"What happened to the witcher?" It's painful to talk.

"Dead." The person behind him may not be talkative but he holds a waterskin so that Julian can drink.

"Who're you?"

"Witcher from the tavern." Julian wasn't sure if this was a "out of the frying pan and into the fire" situation yet, but let himself hope. He had a blanket, and was riding a horse, and had been given water without having to beg, so it was possible that things were looking up.

When he woke up later he had another question. "Where are you taking me?"

"I was on my way to Kaer Morhen, home of the School of the Wolf. I didn't want to leave you there, but if you have someplace to go someone can take you home in spring."

_There_ was the proverbial fire. Julian shuddered at the knowledge that a witcher who had shown interest in how Cadwaladr poisoned him was taking him to a stronghold that would be full of witchers interested in doing more experiments. Maybe they had other captives. But why would this one say he could go home after the winter?

"There may be four or five of us there, besides you," the new witcher says. "You will be able to heal up there. No one will harm you."

That could have been a relief, but Julian knew that most men didn't consider fucking him to be "harm".

The stronghold loomed tall even amid the mountains it sat among. As they grew closer Jaskier could begin to see it's poor condition. The sight didn't allay his fears. There weren't going to be many distractions besides him among a handful of mutants in a ruined castle in the middle of nowhere.

The witcher behind him called out "Vesemir!" as they approached, and Julian thought it was a type of passcode until they were met at the gate by an old man. "I heard your yelling, Wolf. What did you bring with you?"

"A witcher from the School of the Bear had this boy captive and was abusing him. He may still be under the effects of the DeVries extract. It makes him hallucinate."

"I am fifteen, not a boy!" Julian defended himself, though he knew he was scrawny and underfed. He used his arms to try to fight his way out of the blanket, but he only made his chest hurt with the pain of broken ribs. They had been bound, though, so there wasn't the usual agonizing grating of the broken ends rubbing together.

"I am over 300, boy," Vesemir said with a twitch of a condescending smile. "Even our White Wolf is a boy compared to me." The old witcher had walked with them to a courtyard and pulled Julian off the horse. "Can you walk?"

"Legs aren't broken," Julian muttered. "So yes." He was grateful that no one took the blanket and held the edges together in front of his chest with a tight fist. The old witcher led him through another courtyard.

"The Bear School were bastards," Vesemir said. "I didn't know any of them were still roaming around. There's only four of us Wolves left. I've raised these boys and none of them will hurt you. There will definitely be no rape, either. Lambert may be harsh with his words, but with us he's all bark and no bite."

Julian resolved to keep his guard up. What man or witcher would admit rape to their father? Vesemir's words were not a guarantee of anything.

The man finally opened a large door and they were inside. The room was spacious and may have been finely decorated years ago, but now there was wooden scaffolding to facilitate repairs to the structure as well as stacks and stacks of barrels and crates.

"Let me feed you," Vesemir said, leading him past the cluttered hall and to a kitchen area. The enormous hearth was keeping the nook comfortably warm, so when the old man waved Julian to a bench at a table, Jaskier released the blanket and balled it up in his lap. He wasn't going to give it up until they forced him to, because he didn't know if they would give him anything else to keep warm.

He kept his eye on the witcher as he ladled out stew from one large pot into two bowls and put them both on the table, turning away to retrieve spoons. The old man hadn't set them down in a way to indicate a particular one was meant for Julian, so he waited until the man sat at the table and handed him a spoon to choose one.

The human knew that either or both bowls of stew or even the spoons could be poisoned with something harmless to a witcher but dangerous to him, but at this point he was entirely at their mercy so whatever they wanted would happen. He was too hungry to turn down the offering.

After the meal, Vesemir gave Julian the choice of where he would like to sleep. Julian chose a small room. It didn't have a hearth, just a coal brazier. "We do not have enough coal for you to heat this place all winter," Vesemir warned. Julian said the cold wouldn't bother him, which they both knew was likely a lie, but Vesemir had said that he would give Julian the only key to the door if he chose that room and the human desperately desired a locked door to give him at least the illusion of safety.

Julian's first few days were mostly spent locked in his new room resting under a pile of blankets, but neither of the witchers ever even knocked on the door if it wasn't to tell him that a meal was ready. He had slipped off to the privy on the third afternoon when he saw two more witchers arrive and peered over a wall at how the four men affectionately greeted one another. As they approached the building in a group, Julian could overhear Geralt.

"I brought back a boy. Witcher had him, a Bear, and was using some of our potions on him as well as physically abusing him. He's skittish, so probably best to leave him alone."

"Our potions?" The one with the hairy chin said. "And he isn't dead?"

"He was given some of DeVries extract and the asshole said that it made him hallucinate monsters. I let the drunk bastard talk and he had a series of human slaves he experimented on because he was a sadist. The type of person who said that kids were the easiest to control."

"Please tell me you killed him," the same man asked, looking angry and disgusted.

"Mmm-hmm. Of course, I had to wait until they left town, which meant the kid got another beating before I could get my sword into the witcher."

The bearded man spat. "Good fucking riddance. Bears- all of 'em I ever met were assholes."

The witcher with the particularly ugly scars also looked angry. "I didn't think there were any Bear witchers left. Hope that was the last one."

* * *

Julian gradually began to feel safer. None of the witchers seemed to avoid him or seek him out, and they stayed a respectful distance away when they saw him. Eskel, the one with the worst scars, was polite and introduced himself and then would ask if he was doing well. Lambert, with the beard, looked him up and down and then said, "They way Geralt described you, I thought you'd be a kid. If you get bored, I'll give you some work. Or teach you how to use a knife. I can't believe Vesemir is letting everyone coddle you."

Julian hardly thought that he was being "coddled," but he supposed that he was considering how the witchers were usually busy from dawn 'til dusk. He took a chance and approached Lambert one morning, asked if he could help, and began to learn about the different ingredients the witchers prepared and stored. Lambert laughed at the color Julian's face turned when he realised some of the things he had been forced to ingest by Cadwaladr.

He felt the safest with Lambert because that witcher spoke the most and always let everyone know when he was angry. Julian didn't trust the other three witchers because they seemed to hide every emotion and thought.

Julian integrated more and more with the witchers as winter blew in with snow and blizzards and the cloudless days that also seemed the coldest. He even moved his bed into the main hall where the witchers slept because the giant fire kept the space warm.

Eskel admired Julian's skill with his whistle and carved a flute that Jaskier got quite proficient in with a lot of experimenting and practice. Vesemir and Lambert gave him lessons on building strength and flexibility and defending himself with his hands and a pole and dagger. Geralt taught Julian to read.

Julian considered that his favorite skill. He had learned the basics before his parents sold him, but Cadwaladr obviously hadn't thought it necessary to further Julian's education. Geralt was actually very patient and even let him pick out the books he wanted to practice with after he complained when Geralt pulled out a third bestiary.

They asked him where he had lived before the witcher had him. Julian only told them about how Cadwaladr had grabbed him from his bed and told him that his parents had sold him and that he now belonged to the witcher. "They watched him drag me from the house screaming but didn't try to stop him," he said bitterly. "I don't want to see them again until I am successful and can kick their teeth in with the fact."

As spring approached, Julian had to decide what he wanted to do. He had asked if he could stay with Vesemir, but the old man had told him that they would drive each other crazy-- which was true, but had still hurt Julian's feelings. He guessed he wasn't very good at hiding that, because Vesemir and Eskel had said that he was welcome to come back for winter. 

"Would you like to be apprenticed to a bard?" Geralt asked. "You seem to be talented with music." The witcher kept his eyes on his food as if he was trying to pretend that he wasn't doing something so kind as giving someone a compliment. "I know people in Ard Carraigh, Oxenfurt, Vizima, and Novigrad. Even if that doesn't work out, you can find other work."

"You're good with the goat, chickens, and horses," Eskel said. "If you don't want to stay in a city, you could find a job on a farm."

Julian still found it hard to believe that any of these men would call in favors or use connections just to find him a place to belong and be safe. Even if this was just a theoretical discussion, they seemed to be waiting for an answer, so Julian said, "Oxenfurt sounds okay."

* * *

Julian loved Oxenfurt. He loved learning. He adored the trobaritz Geralt had introduced him to. Wioletta wasn't as delicate as her stage name hinted; she was over fifty summers old and her body and voice and mind were strong even though the pain in her fingers frequently made her unable to play. His new mentor dubbed him Jaskier, following the tradition her teacher had learned from her teacher, and so on. Jaskier was the first male bard in a handful of generations, and he didn't mind being named after a flower. The new name just meant he was even farther away from being that boy his family had abandoned.

Geralt had stayed in the city for less than a week to be sure that Julian had felt confident with his new place, and Jaskier ended up missing all the witchers more than he had expected. Geralt had said that he was welcome to send a message to Kaer Morhen if he ever wanted to go back, but Jaskier was more interested in learning and performing and building his reputation as a musician as well as a hedonist and libertine. Last before he knew it, four winters had passed and he had not only left Wioletta's tutelage, but had earned a degree at the Academy due to his patroness the Countess de Stael's generosity (and his own skill and hard work, of course).

The leaves were golden and the winds from the Pontar blew chills up one's sleeves in the late afternoons when Jaskier catches a glimpse of moon-white hair and two sword hilts through the crowd at the market. He ran after the man. Of course the witcher turned at the sound of being chased, but the wariness in his amber eyes softened when he recognized Jaskier.

"Geralt!" Jaskier couldn't stop himself from embracing him, though he remembered the discomfort all the Wolves had seemed with physical affection. "I am happy to see you!"

He stepped back and watched Geralt study him. Geralt looked the same: road-weary, with road dust speckling his boots and pants, and the aura of danger. The witcher finally said, 

"Julian. You look healthy." 

Jaskier contrasted the current Geralt from the one in his memory as he filled the witcher in on the last several years. He had gone from a menacing monster to a figure of respect in Jaskier's mind after the rescue, but now he could view his acquaintance from a fairer platform of confidence and experience. Geralt was almost unfathomably dashing, and Jaskier could now translate his careful words and movements as the actions of a man trying not to be threatening or stand out. 

"C'mon. You have time for a drink?"

* * *

Geralt had last seen the boy the spring that he had brought Julian to Oxenfurt. He had lingered in the area for a few weeks to make sure that he was safe and content with the trobaritz, then had avoided the city. Vesemir had received some letters from the boy, and Lambert had said that he had seen him perform once, but they had all surmised that Julian would be better off without the stigma of being involved with witchers unless he bluntly asked for their help.

Julian was taller and broader after living well, and his generous personality was now unleashed from fear. The young man seemed gregarious and gave the barkeep such a charming smile that the man didn't voice any complaint about having him bring in such an undesirable element as Geralt.

He brought the tankards of beer to the pub table with no sign of discomfort at being eyed distrustfully by the other patrons.

"Is everyone still alive?" Julian's first question was made with direct eye contact and genuine concern.

"Everyone's fine."

The boy's face melted in relief and Geralt was truly taken aback by the blatant strength of that emotion. "Thank the gods. I asked all the travelers I met if they had come across you or Lambert or Eskel, but only a handful had heard about any of you guys taking on jobs. And of course they never could tell me who had taken the contract." Julian sighed and then slumped his shoulders and frowned. "I thought maybe one of you would come and see me. It's been almost five years. I sent letters, but if you wanted me to stop writing you could have let me know."

Geralt was uncomfortable. Had they made the wrong decision to leave Julian alone? "You didn't need us around to hurt your reputation. We all read your letters, and once you got famous we didn't need to check up on you."

Julian lifted his mug only to slam it down on the table. "Check up on me?"

Geralt almost cringed at the human's ire, but he was able to maintain his composure. "Sorry? We just wanted to make sure you were safe."

Julian shook his head and bit his lip. "You could have let me see you. You... Geralt, you saved me. And all of you were just... so nice and amazing. I ended up thinking that I had just imagined that you all had actually cared after you dropped me off and abandoned me like a piece of trash." His irritation morphed to sadness and self-deprecation quickly, and Geralt was having trouble keeping up with identifying all of the boy's shifting emotions. None of the Wolves' moods were so changeable, and Julian had mostly oscillated between sullenly fearful and cautiously interested when he was up at Kaer Morhen.

"Julian, look." Geralt made a gesture to the other patrons. There was a growing tension and increased muttering as Julian got more and more upset. The bard raised his head and red-rimmed eyes and finally noticed.

One particularly burly patron with a cudgel hanging from a belt got up and stepped closer. "This mutant bothering you, Master Jaskier?"

Julian's face twitched between annoyance and confusion before he smoothed it out and put on a smile. "Of course not! Geralt's a dear friend!" As the man reluctant backed off, Julian murmured, "Okay, now I see what you meant about protecting my reputation. But there's no excuse to why I never received a single letter."

"You never asked us to," Geralt said, though his his face betrayed the fact that he knew the bard wouldn't accept this as a reasonable excuse. "I apologize."

"For your edification, if an individual sends someone three or four letters per year for _four years_ you can take for granted that that person is stubbornly clinging to the hope of not losing the only kind friends he has made in his young, shitty life and you should at least let him know that the people he is concerned about are still alive, what with all their dangerous monster hunting and tramping about a world filled with ignorant assholes who want to see them dead for simply talking to someone."

"Thanks," Geralt said dryly, "But I hope that you're the only stubborn idiot who thinks that witchers are their kind friends."

"Come on, I'm sure you're kind to people. At least children. I've seen you with animals."

"My actions weren't kind," Geralt said, scowling. His voice lowered and he tapped a finger on the table for emphasis with his next words. "You were the young victim of a pedophile who starved you and drugged you and beat you. You took poisoned food from my hand. If I was kind I would have taken you away from him when I first saw you at the tavern. Instead, I watched him assault you and only killed him much later when we were alone in the forest as he prepared to rape you again."

"Geralt. You wanted to do something to help me and you did. I was with that animal for years, and everyone else knew he was abusing me and didn't care enough to do more than try to give me some extra food or coin. Waiting for a tactical advantage to kill him without witnesses was smart, not cruel."

The witcher watched and listened to the leather of his gloves creak as he flexed his hands. "I am not _kind_ ," he insisted.

"Fine. You're a surly old bastard with a tendency to use violence to solve every problem you encounter. I'll stop arguing." Jaskier was amused and his concession was dripping with sarcasm. "Tell me what you've been doing and where you've been."

**Author's Note:**

> Um, what's an ending?
> 
> Don't let the Kink Meme die! There are plenty of unfilled prompts with gen content or a variety of requested pairings. Any fill is appreciated! Many prompts aren't even kink-focused, so don't let that scare you off from looking for something to spark your artistic or literary creativity!


End file.
